


Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You

by Impala_Chick



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Getting to Know Each Other, Ghost Hunters, Haunted Houses, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Men of Letters Russian Branch, News Media, Rescue Missions, Sam Wilson-centric, Sexual Tension, frenemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Fandom For Australia





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



> Thank you so much for your winning bid and your patience! 
> 
> This fic is mostly completed. The majority of the fic will be from Sam Wilson's PoV.
> 
> Title from the REO Speedwagon song _Can't Fight This Feeling_.

When Sam Wilson opens the door to his DC apartment, he doesn’t look as shell-shocked as Natasha expected him to. It must be odd to be confronted with Steve Rogers and some woman he has never met at 0700 on a Thursday. Instead of asking questions, he just raises his eyebrow a fraction and ushers them both inside.

“I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you, Sam,” she says curtly as she steps over the threshold with Steve on her heels.

As soon as Sam shuts the door, Steve doesn’t waste any time. “Sam, we need help. I hate to show up out of the blue like this, but it’s important.”

Sam slides the door lock into place, takes a deep breath, and turns around with his shoulders squared. He’s standing like he’s already ready for a fight, and Natasha appreciates that type of attitude.

“Okay,” Sam asks, his voice light. “But you better start from the beginning.”

Steve looks over at Natasha with a sigh, and then takes a seat on the blue ottoman in Sam’s living room. Natasha knows that look. Steve is about to launch into _the talk_. The one where he breaks it to some poor soul that demons are real. Ghosts are real. Everything that goes bump in the night is actually, terrifyingly real. 

They’d been working together for a year or so, and Natasha has heard Steve break the bad news to at least six other people by now. She doesn’t have much interest in hearing him give it again, so she starts wandering around Sam’s apartment. 

Connected to the living room is a small kitchen with a breakfast bar. The sink is empty and everything looks clean. She keeps walking down the hallway until she reaches another door. Inside, there is a large bed and a dresser with some framed photos on top of it. His bedroom is just as clean and organized. These are all good signs. If someone can keep their house in order, hopefully their life is in order as well. 

She and Steve needed a well-trained hunter on their side for this mission, but since neither of them could come up with a hunter they could trust, Sam Wilson was their next best option. Steve and Sam had met in a veteran’s group that Sam led, and based on everything Steve told her, Sam seemed like one of the good ones. Steve had touted him as a calm and rational guy who also has great combat skills. 

Which isn’t to say that Natasha didn’t do her own digging. She absolutely did, but Sam Wilson came up clean. There was nothing to indicate he was anything less than the great guy Steve assumed him to be.

She knows that the speech Steve is delivering will change Sam’s life. He can never go back to just… not knowing. He’ll never walk through a dark alley without thinking twice. His heart rate will kick up every time he hears a creaking door or an unexplainable sound coming from the darkness. But she doesn’t really regret that change the way Steve does. She thinks it's better if people know what they’re up against. 

She makes her way back into the living room. Sam is standing up with his arms crossed and his hip leaning against the armrest of the couch. He is intently focused on Steve’s face, but he isn’t yelling or crying - both of which are the two most common responses. Steve is still seated on the ottoman, with his hands on his knees. 

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he’s not wrong. She and Steve do need a means of transportation, considering they ditched both of their cars once they realized they were being tracked. And the Men of Letters are certainly good at killing, even though it's hard to know exactly whose blood they're after.

She’d heard a few stories about Barnes and his childhood over the past year, from Steve. But before she'd gotten free, she’d heard stories about Barnes from the Russian Men of Letters. Stories that involve lots of guts and glory, and no mercy. They held him out as their poster boy when Natasha went through her own indoctrination.

Natasha hadn’t told Steve much about her time with the Men of Letters, and for good reason. She’d been manipulated to serve their ends. She was raised to be a killer, to eradicate the beings of the supernatural no matter the cost, and she had been damn good at it. Steve would undoubtedly look at her differently if he knew the true extent of what they’d made her do. 

She was still friendly with some people on the inside, though. So when she'd met Steve, and realized who Barnes was to him, she'd done some digging. She found out Barnes was alive, and still being controlled by the Russian Men of Letters. As soon as she had a decent lead on where to find him, Steve and Natasha had come to Sam's. 

According to Steve, Barnes had been killed during a hunt back before Natasha and Steve had met. Steve and Barnes had cornered a demon at the edge of a mountainous preserve in Colorado. The demon had strange yellow eyes, but they had been sure the demon trap would hold him.

It hadn’t. It rushed Steve, who shot him three times with devil’s trap bullets. When that didn’t work, Barnes charged forward and tried to engage the demon in a physical fight. The demon had grabbed Barnes around the waist, and took them both over the cliff to fall several miles into a ravine. 

On the one hand, Natasha finds it very unlikely that Barnes could have survived such a fall. But on the other hand, she knows exactly what the Men of Letters were capable of. If anyone could have brought Barnes back from the dead, it would have been them. They have endless gadgets and vast wealth at their disposal, and they are ruthless. Every last one of them.

They’d put Barnes through hell, of that she has no doubt. He’d been missing for 15 years, which is plenty of time for someone to be brainwashed and manipulated. Saving Bucky Barnes will mean righting a wrong and making the world a little safer. But Natasha is also committed to this mission for her own reasons. If everything goes as planned, she will have her revenge.

Natasha takes a seat on the far side of the couch and crosses her legs. Sam looks between her and Steve for a moment, quiet as he contemplates what Steve has just proposed. She’s sure he has plenty to think about, and she’s glad he’s taking the time to do so. Once he’s made a commitment, it won’t be easy for him to walk away. He’ll have a target on his back the moment he chooses a side.

“You’re sort of a hero, you know,” Sam says as he looks at Steve. “I recognized your name when I saw you signed up for my class.” 

“Yeah? You never said anything.” Steve smiles. 

“Well, I didn’t want to make it weird for you,” Sam teases with a smile of his own. He uncrosses his arms and starts walking toward the kitchen. “But the point is - if Steve Rogers needs my help, I’m not going to say no. Although the article didn’t specify you hunted _ghosts_ for a living.” 

His voice is casual, but Natasha recognizes the tense line of his shoulders. He’s masking his nervousness well. He opens the fridge and pulls out a pitcher of orange juice. 

“You guys want anything to drink?” he calls. 

Steve looks over at Natasha and gestures towards Sam with an eyebrow raised, as if he’s asking _Well? What do you think?_

Natasha nods. Sam’s calm demeanor has impressed her so far. She likes him already. “He’ll do.” 

Steve grins and slaps a hand on his thigh before he stands up. She follows Steve into the kitchen, and they both take a seat across from Sam at the breakfast bar. Sam pours them both a glass of orange juice, and the whole scene is disarmingly domestic. 

“Do you know what you’re getting into?” Natasha asks Sam as she wraps a hand around her glass. She’s not trying to be confrontational, but she doubts Steve really laid the proper groundwork necessary to understand just how fucked up the Men of Letters are. 

“No idea whatsoever. But we have to start somewhere. How about breakfast? If you guys eat that sort of thing.” Sam smiles, like it’s no big deal that he’s just agreed to help two infamous hunters track down a ghost, when an hour ago he didn’t even know ghosts existed. 

But Sam’s already made up his mind, and the best thing she can do for him now is keep him from getting killed.

Natasha has to hand it to Steve. He sure knows how to pick ‘em.


	2. The Article Sam read

#  Daily Bugle 

### LOCAL HERO DECLARED STARK GRANT AWARDEE 

  
By J. Jonah Jamison  
Associate Editor  


  
  


  
  


**New York, NY; 2012** \- Tony Stark announced at his fundraising gala Friday night that Steve Rogers was chosen as his first grant recipient. The Stark Grant program was founded late last year. “The heroes among us shouldn’t have to scrape by! They should be allowed to continue protecting people. And that’s what I hope this funding will do for Mr. Rogers,” Stark said at the gala. This comes just on the heels of Stark’s confession that he is Iron Man. There are still some reporters that dispute his confession and speculate that it was an elaborate hoax, but The Daily Bugle has confirmed that Tony Stark is the man behind the metal mask.

  
  


The Stark Foundation released this statement regarding Rogers:

  
  


_Steve Rogers is a man that always puts other people above himself. Mr. Stark had the good fortune of seeing him in action when he saved a young child from a burning apartment building in New York City. Iron Man cannot be everywhere at once, which is why the Stark Foundation is proud to recognize Mr. Rogers for his past heroism and aid him in the continued fight to help others._

  
  


The Daily Bugle has not been able to ascertain the identity of the child who was saved. However, there were two apartment building fires that Iron Man aided New York fire and rescue with during the past three months. Mr. Rogers was spotted at two of those fires. Multiple witnesses reported seeing him outside the site of the first apartment building fire, covered in soot. At the second fire, he is recognizable in news video footage of the scene. The Daily Bugle has also confirmed witnesses saw him carrying a small child from the site of the second fire. The was a mysterious woman wearing all black with Mr. Rogers, but no one has come forward to identify this woman.

  
  


Rogers accepted the award and grant funds in person at the Stark Awards Gala, but sources say he did not stay for long. He was seen leaving Stark Tower with a red-headed woman shortly after the award was announced. He was wearing a simple black suit and tie.

  
  


Steve Rogers declined our request for comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ElectricAlice for the [workskin and CSS.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974437)


	3. Finding Bucky

Sam takes the next exit off of Highway 66 so that they can stop at a roadside motel just outside Oklahoma City. They’ve been staying at shitty no-name motels and paying cash so as to avoid being followed ever since they left DC. Natasha is the most paranoid of them all, but Sam is fine with letting her call the shots when it comes to evasion techniques. He’s certainly not familiar with the Russian Men of Letters, and he feels like every day he’s faced with a new set of challenges he’d never even considered before. He’s becoming a better hunter every day, though.

Natasha and Steve told him that they usually hear about potential cases from Tony Stark, or from their other hunter friends. They also search for strange deaths online, and they gave Sam a crash course on how to spot something potentially supernatural. 

He’d started writing himself notes so that he could remember:

1\. Organ(s) missing from the body? Probably supernatural.  
2\. A mutilated body blamed on an “animal attack”? Probably supernatural.  
3\. Someone is dead with no wounds and the cause of death is unknown? Probably supernatural.

Sam’s list is short, but he’s working on it. 

At least life on the road isn’t boring. Even though they are supposed to be completely off the grid, they can still pick up newspapers in towns they’re staying at or use a VPN to search the internet. Sam helped take down a Rugaru, and the spirit of a dead grandmother, on their way to Barnes. 

Originally the plan on the Rugaru mission had been for Sam to be the lookout, but that didn’t last long when the extremely pale skinned thing had flashed its black eyes and charged him outside of the apartment building he was staking out. Steve had tossed Sam the blow torch, and the creature screamed as it went up in flames.

Afterwards, Sam had felt so accomplished. He’d destroyed evil and saved civilians, and all it had taken was a few hours of driving and a quick hand with the blow torch. Putting an end to the random deaths caused by that Rugaru in eastern Kentucky _meant something_. That first mission sharpened his resolve, and made him want to chase that sense of purpose for as long as he could. 

Natasha’s lead on Barnes had brought them all the way to a different shitty motel in Oklahoma earlier that day, but Barnes had been gone by the time they got there. They did some interviews while pretending to be FBI agents, and looked at several hours of grainy surveillance footage. Steve recognized Barnes right away, so at least they had a pretty good idea that he was alive. 

But the surveillance footage didn’t just capture his face. Sam watches Barnes do some pretty fucked up shit to some vampires and one innocent bystander, right in the lobby of the hotel. He cuts the heads clean off of three vampires with ruthless efficiency, and never once stops to talk to any of them. He doesn’t even pause when the civilian, obviously caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, holds up his hands and begs for mercy. One of the vamps could not have been older than 17, but Barnes doesn’t look the least bit perturbed about killing her either. In fact, his face looks eerily blank the whole time. Barnes uses a large curved blade that shoots out from his metal arm to do the work. The metal arm comes as a shock to Steve and Natasha, but after watching him wield it, Sam guesses Barnes has had it for a long time.

Sam keeps thinking about Barnes’s blank expression as he drifts off to sleep. He doesn’t understand what happened to Barnes to make him look like that, but Sam does understand one thing. They have to find him, and stop him, before he does something worse.

\---

The next morning Sam climbs out of the driver’s seat and stretches, twirling the key ring around his fingers. They’re parked in front of the Oklahoma County Morgue, and Sam’s about to talk his way in to see the body of the vamps they saw Barnes kill at the hotel.

“How much longer do you think you can stay on the road with us? It’s already been a few weeks.” Natasha asks over the hood of the car after she gets out.

The question comes out of the blue, but then again Natasha has always been blunt with him. “I think I’d like to see this one through,” Sam says honestly. 

Natasha walks around the hood of the car and smiles. “So I take it you don’t hate hunting, then?”

Sam shrugs. “It feels good to be doing something that matters.”

“Even when no one else knows you’re doing it?” Natasha prods as she glances away. 

She's looking down the road like she's trying to give Sam ideas, and Sam thinks he understands. Natasha is testing him, because this is the first time he'll be going in alone. But he’s not going to abandon them now, not when they finally have a real shot at finding Barnes.

“Especially then. I don’t even have to wear a disguise to do this job like you guys do,” Sam jokes. 

“We’ll go get a coffee or something,” Steve says as he gets out of the passenger’s side and puts his ball cap on. Natasha and Steve are just a little bit too famous to blend in with everyone else, thanks to Stark’s foundation. Natasha pulls a ball cap over her fiery red hair and waves before she follows Steve. Sam supposes he must have passed her test.

Sam grabs his fake FBI badge from the glove box and tucks it into his brown leather jacket. All he had to do was pretend to be a G-man, observe the dead bodies, look for clues, and then get out of there without causing a scene. Probably the most straightforward thing he’s had to do since he started working with Natasha and Steve.

“I’ll meet you back here in a bit,” Sam says as he walks up the stone pathway and in through the glass front door.

He rings the little bell at the front desk of the morgue. No one answers, and Sam knows that’s a bad sign. 

He stands on his tiptoes to look behind the counter, but he doesn’t see anyone. He rings the bell one more time, even though he already has a sinking feeling in his gut. The chime rings out in the empty foyer, and it sounds much more ominous than it had the first time he rang it. 

He starts walking forward towards the swinging doors. He’s not sure what to expect, considering he’d been planning on just sweet-talking a few pathologists and staring at a couple dead guys. He is armed, though. If Barnes is still around, then the place could be crawling with hunter handlers.

He pushes through the double doors and pauses. The swoosh of the doors closing behind him is the only sound. He keeps on walking down the gray linoleum hallway, and a light flickers above him. 

The hallway dead-ends at a room with a huge glass window and a small door. Sam can see a few gray exam tables in the room, but they are all empty. The bright fluorescent lights are on in the lab, but there isn’t anyone around. Something is definitely off. 

Out of nowhere, something strikes Sam across his back and he stumbles forward onto his knees. He recovers quickly and spins to put his hands up. He blocks a strike, and then has a chance to look at his attacker. It’s a man in a fancy three-piece suit, preparing to strike Sam again with a nightstick. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man taunts. His accent sounds Russian, and Sam does not appreciate his condescending tone.

Sam acts on instinct, relying on his combat training to block the man’s next strike with his forearm. He kicks out at the man’s ankle, and the man stumbles back. Sam grabs for the man’s nightstick, and then kicks at his shin. 

Sam's foot connects this time, and man lands hard on his knees. Sam holds the nightstick at his throat.

“Who are you?” He asks. 

“Oh, I think you know,” the man says, his eyes narrowed.

Then, Sam hears a loud explosion somewhere behind him. He looks down and sees the man’s eyes widen in surprise. It’s never good when there’s a random explosion that even the bad guy didn’t know about. Sam takes that as his cue to book it. He keeps the nightstick and runs down the hallway and back through the double doors. 

He’s pulling out his phone to call Steve as he makes for the car, when someone suddenly shoulder checks him and sends him flying into the hood. He hears a crunch when the metal dents under his weight, and his ears start ringing from the force of the impact. He tries to swing out with the nightstick, but he realizes he must have dropped it when he got hit.

Sam blinks and gets his bearings just in time to dodge a punch. The sound of metal scraping against metal makes Sam turn his head down towards the car.

The fist that had connected with the car doesn’t look human. It’s made of shiny silver metal. On the inside of the attacker’s forearm there’s a golden pentagram. Sam follows the line of the arm up to a black bullet-proof vest. The man connected to the arm is wearing a black mask over his mouth, and his brown bangs are hanging over his forehead.

It’s definitely Bucky Barnes.

Sam feels completely out of his element when the metal arm swings for him again. Sam dodges and kicks out but Barnes strikes him on the shoulder, and Sam groans from the sharp pain. He tries to move back when he notices Natasha coming towards them out of the corner of his eye. 

She runs and jumps right on Barnes’ back. He swings his metal arm around to grab her, but she manages to land a blow to the side of his head before he gets a hold of her ankle. Sam lunges forward and punches him in the chest two times before Barnes lets go of Natasha. She manages to jump down, and Sam squares up as Barnes advances towards him. He’s got no idea how he’s going to be able to take him on, considering Barnes has already proven how strong he is, but he’s got to try.

“On your left!” It’s Steve. Sam glances over, and gets out of Steve’s way. 

“Bucky!” Steve yells. Barnes turns to look at him, and then Steve plunges a syringe into Barnes’s shoulder and depresses the plunger. 

Barnes drops like a sack of potatoes and Sam breathes a sigh of relief.

“Holy shit,” he says. The pain is starting to catch up with him, and he knows he’s got several bruises. Steve has his mouth pressed in a firm line as he gestures for Sam to help him pick Barnes up off the ground. 

Natasha hops behind the wheel of the car as Sam helps Steve shove Barnes into the backseat. Steve climbs in after Barnes, and Sam slams the door.

“So much for not making a scene,” Sam mumbles as he gets into the front passenger seat. Natasha peels out of the parking lot, and heads for the safe house. The air is charged with tension, and no one breaks the silence for a while. When he glances in the rear-view mirror, Steve’s looking at Barnes like he can’t believe he’s real.

“It’ll be fine, Steve,” Natasha says, her voice kind. “I’ve already got the machine set up in the bunker.”

“I know. It’s just, it’s been a long time,” Steve says.

Sam doesn’t have anything nice to add, so he just stares at the road, and desperately hopes they make it before Barnes wakes up.

\---

Barnes is out so long that Steve has to give him an adrenaline shot once they make it to the safe house. Sam has his gun pointed at Barnes, just so he’s ready in case something gets out of hand. Barnes’s arms are tied to a metal chair, his metal arm bound with extra care, but Sam doesn’t want to take any chances. Steve sits down in a folding chair across from Barnes, and waits. Barnes slowly blinks awake, and stares groggily at Steve.

Natasha had strapped electrodes to Barnes’s temples already, and she does the same to Steve now. Long brightly-colored wires hang down around their shoulders and connect them both to a whirring machine that looks sort of like a heart monitor. It has a black display with a bunch of green lines and read-outs on it that Sam does not understand. 

“Steve?” Bucky asks. His voice sounds scratchy and weak.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks sternly. 

“Your mother’s name is Sarah,” Bucky pauses to take a shaky breath. “And you used to save the obituaries from the local paper to check if there were any supernatural deaths.” 

Bucky huffs a laugh at the last part, and Sam watches as a smile breaks across Steve’s face.

“Can’t read that online,” Steve says as he glances over at Natasha.

Sam can’t help but interject. Barnes could just be reciting things from old memories. His pronouncement doesn’t mean shit. “Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” 

Barnes makes eye contact with Sam for the first time, ignoring the business end of Sam's gun even though it's pointed at him. Barnes looks worried as he sighs heavily and flicks his gaze down to his own shoes. “What did I do?” 

He sounds utterly exhausted, and a bit ashamed if Sam’s being honest. It’s not the kind of response Sam was expecting. He’d thought maybe the guy would be defensive, or get angry with him, or try to pit Steve against him. Maybe he's intimidated by the gun.

“You did enough,” Steve says heavily. 

Barnes looks up at him with his eyebrows knitted together. Then he turns his head to look at Natasha. 

“Can you help me?” He says, his voice sad.

She nods and leans her hip against a table, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to try.” 

“Good,” Barnes says.

Sam holsters his gun. It seems that Barnes is going to make this part easy on them. Sam's not convinced everything is going to be as easy as Natasha is making it out to be, but for now he'll have to wait and see what happens.

Natasha glances over at Sam. “They’ll both have to be put under for this part, so you’re on guard duty.” 

“Easy enough,” Sam says. Steve gives Sam a thumbs up. Barnes is looking down at the ground, his face a resolute mask.

Sam walks out of the room and shuts the door, glad he doesn’t have to watch whatever is about to happen.

\---

A couple hours later, the three of them emerge from the room with pale faces and tired eyes. Steve is smiling, though.

“Well?” Sam asks. He’s not sure who he’s asking, but his gaze settles on Barnes. His bangs are stuck to his forehead and his long-sleeved shirt is clinging to his broad chest and well-muscled shoulders. Whatever happened in there was clearly exhausting. 

Natasha speaks first. “He’s as good as new. He says he wants to keep the arm, though.”

Sam barks a surprised laugh. He can’t blame Barnes for that decision. Sam has seen how useful that arm can be. 

“Passwords don’t control me anymore,” Barnes says as he taps his temple. “I’m free.”

“Yeah, now all of your boneheaded decisions are your own,” Steve says with a laugh. He walks down the small flight of stairs to the kitchen and pulls up a stool. Natasha does the same. Barnes rolls his eyes and pushes his hair off his forehead before he flashes Sam a smile and follows them. 

Sam had been waiting for this moment for weeks, so it feels surreal, to see the three of them casually sitting around a kitchen island, acting like everything is normal. It had been less than 24 hours since Barnes tried to beat the shit out of him, so Sam still feels tense and on-guard even though the mission appears to be over. 

“What now?” Sam asks, his eyes still on Barnes.

“Well, there’s one small thing,” Steve starts to say. 

Barnes scoffs before he jumps in to explain. “There are other hunters like me, controlled by the Men of Letters.” 

“And Steve and I are going to take care of them,” Natasha finishes, her voice steely. 

Sam looks at her pointedly. He didn’t miss the way she’d said _Steve and I_ , excluding him. “You don’t want my help?” 

“We need someone to stay with Bucky, make sure he doesn’t… fall off the wagon,” Natasha explains.

“And to protect him,” Steve rushes to add. “We don’t have to go very far, anyway. Lebanon, Kansas. We’ll call you if we need help.”

To his credit, Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic. He shrugs his shoulders and smiles weakly.

Natasha has her hand on her hip, and Steve’s resting his elbows on the kitchen island. They are both staring at Sam, waiting for his answer. 

He knows he could tell them to pound sand. He’s not Barnes’s keeper, and he could be useful in a fight against the Men of Letters. But he also knows that they wouldn’t be asking if they didn’t think Barnes needed to stay put. Barnes could probably use some time to recover from having his brain scrambled, at any rate.

“Fine. But the second, and I mean the _second_ you think there’s going to be more trouble than you expected, you call.” Sam hopes the strength of his voice conveys how serious he is.

Steve nods solemnly, and Natasha smiles.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve says. “We owe you.” 

“You definitely do,” Sam chides as he walks towards the pantry.

Maybe he should think of this as a little vacation. The safe house has three bedrooms, and it’s the nicest place they’ve stayed at so far. It’s got a well-stocked kitchen, and a glorious high-pressure shower. 

This should be his easiest mission yet. 

Although It doesn’t escape Sam’s notice that because of the metal arm, Barnes is carrying a deadly weapon at all times. As soon as they’re alone, he’s got no idea what Barnes will do. 

Sam glances over his shoulder to watch as Barnes delicately picks up a glass of water with his metal hand. He brings it to his lips and takes a sip, and then he smiles at something Steve is saying, and he looks so normal that Sam wants to believe he’s now a changed man - instead of the deadly weapon the Men of Letters groomed him to be.


	4. Haunted Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Bucky investigate a haunted hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by one of my favorite SPN episodes, _Playthings._

Sam is sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through local obituaries on his laptop, when Barnes walks in. His sweatpants are sitting low on his hips, and when he reaches to open the fridge his shirt rides up. 

He quickly looks away when Barnes turns around. Two glasses are set on the counter, and Barnes pours Sam a glass of orange juice without even asking. Barnes brings his own glass to his lips, looking at Sam over the rim as he drinks. Sam reaches over and takes the other glass, just for something to do. 

He really needs to get out of the house more.

“What do you think about going on a hunt?” Sam asks, once he takes a sip of the tangy juice.

Barnes raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t we promise we’d stay put?”

“Yeah, but do you always do what you’re told?” He’s feeling flirty. Sue him.

Barnes scoffs. “Fine. I'm in.”

“It’s that easy?” Sam fully expected Barnes to say no. Hell, he’d just gotten control of his own brain again. Sam didn’t know if whatever Natasha had done to him had been painful, or if Barnes had planned on giving up hunting altogether.

“Yeah, why not? I can’t just sit around here with you forever.” Barnes shrugs his shoulders and crowds closer behind Sam so he can look over at the screen, like he doesn't believe in personal space. “What do you have in mind?”

Sam can smell the fresh minty scent of Barnes’s aftershave, but he keeps his eyes on the computer screen. “This old hotel is closing. But two people have died there within the last two weeks. The realtor was found dead, and then this guy was picking stuff up and fell down the stairs.”

“Sounds normal enough. Could be just a coincidence.”

“Okay, but get this. Second dude’s head was turned all the way around.” Sam shudders as he pictures it.

Barnes nods and puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder, over his t-shirt, and squeezes. “Worth looking into, then.” 

When Barnes pulls his hand back, Sam’s skin still feels warm where Barnes touched him. Sam closes his laptop and watches as Barnes makes his way over to the pantry. His sweatpants fit him well. Sam realizes he’s staring, so he picks up the laptop and heads back to his room. 

He and Barnes might not be friends, but they are now officially co-workers. Sam figures he should probably start calling him by his first name.

\---

Sam parks in the gravel driveway just before the stone front steps of the hotel. He grabs his duffel bag once he’s out of the car, and Bucky does the same. Sam is immediately struck by how old the place feels. The greenery out front is pruned and obviously cared for, and the siding of the hotel is clean. But the front awning is a dull brown color, and the sign with the hotel’s name is faded and barely legible.

“Hey, look at this,” Bucky says. He’s looking at a large metal urn that’s just next to the front door. Sam walks up the rest of the steps to look where he’s pointing. 

“It’s a Quincunx. It has five points.” Bucky looks over at Sam. “Hoodoo.” 

“So someone cursed this place?” Sam guesses.

Bucky furrows his brow. “Maybe. Too early to tell.” 

Bucky pushes open the front door, and Sam follows behind him. The lobby is empty, but well-kept. The carpet is a deep green color that makes the room seem dark. Sam feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up for no discernible reason. A door bursts open on the left side of the room, and a young girl with bouncy blond curls runs through the room, nearly bumping into Bucky. 

Sam walks up to the desk and rings the gold service bell. 

“Welcome! You’ll probably be our last guests,” A brunette woman says as she smiles at both of them.

“Ominous,” Sam says. The comment makes Sam immediately suspicious. Bucky jabs him in the ribs with his human elbow, and Sam pointedly does not look at him. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I just meant we’re closing in about a week.” She pulls out a check-in book from under the desk and opens it to a blank page. “So let me guess. You’re here antiquing?” 

That seems like a good enough cover, so Sam goes with it. “Yep, how’d you know?”

“Well, we just get a lot of folks like that around here. Would you like one King sized bed?”

The front desk receptionist is clearly jumping to a _very_ specific conclusion and now Sam understands why she asked if they were antiquing. Sam glances over at Bucky, suddenly feeling indignant and annoyed all at once. But maybe it’s best for their cover if Sam just lets it happen. 

Barnes must see the panicked look in Sam’s eyes, because he takes over. “No, no we’re just - two beds is fine.” 

Sam’s mouth is suddenly dry and he awkwardly swallows once the woman hands over their room key. 

“Welcome to the Pierpoint Inn,” the woman says cheerily as she rings the bell on the desk again. “I’m Nancy. Wilbur will show you to your room.” 

A very wrinkly old man seems to materialize just behind them. “Good evening, Sirs. Here antiquing?” 

Sam keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “As a matter of fact, we are.” 

Wilbur takes Sam’s duffel bag from him and proceeds to drag it up the stairs. Sam glances over at Bucky, who is barely containing his laughter. 

“I could get that,” Sam offers.

“Oh no, I got it.” Wilbur keeps right on dragging it, and it makes a thunking sound as it hits each of the stairs. Sam gives up and heads up after him, taking in the faded floral wallpaper and numerous framed photos. The photos are all sepia toned and depict men and women in 1800s garb. Wilbur takes them down a hallway, each door marked with a number. 

Wilbur suddenly comes to a halt, and holds his hand out. Sam assumes he’s asking for the key, so he hands it over. The lighting seems dim in the hotel, and it’s deathly quiet. They must be the only guests. 

After inserting the key in the lock, Wilbur pushes the door open with an ominous creaking sound, and dumps the duffel bag in the doorway. Sam nods at him and heads inside the room, unsure what to expect. 

There’s an antique framed photo of a doll above a dark wood desk, and the floral wallpaper covering the walls is a putrid yellow. There’s even a high-necked dress tacked up on the wall. It probably used to be white at some point but it had lost its luster. The two beds in the center are covered with faded green checkered comforters, and they take up most of the space in the room. 

Sam picks up his bag to dump it on the closest bed, and when he turns around, Wilbur is gone. 

“That was weird, right?” Sam says with a raised eyebrow. 

Bucky raises his metal arm and smirks. “My definition of weird is probably a little skewed.”

“Oh, he has a sense of humor,” Sam remarks with a laugh. It surprises him how easy-going Bucky seems to be. It’s surely been a long time since he’s been on a hunt without the Men of Letters bossing him around.

But then again, Bucky was a hunter before the Men of Letters came along. Maybe he’s able to fall back onto old habits. 

“I say we start with the sketchy bellhop. He’s suspect number one,” Sam offers.

Bucky cocks his head, considering. “Intel gathering is the first priority, Wilson. Before you name suspects. Have Steve and Natasha taught you nothing?” He shakes his head, and his long hair sways like he’s in a goddamn shampoo commercial. He flashes a grin that Sam would definitely consider to be flirty before he heads out the door. 

Sam takes in the view of Bucky’s ass for a moment before following him. Nobody said work couldn’t be fun.

\---

They find another hoodoo symbol outside of one of the rooms down the hall, etched into the lip of a tabletop vase. When they knock on the door closest to the vase, the woman from the reception desk opens it.

“Oh, is something wrong?” Nancy asks.

“No, everything is great. But we’re from out of town and we’re just trying to -” Sam tries to come up with a plausible lie, but then he notices the shelves lining the wall behind the woman are absolutely packed with dolls. All of the dolls have huge fake curls and ornate ruffled dresses. Some appear to have plastic faces while others appear to have faces made of shiny ceramic.

“You know, my partner here loves dolls. He actually collects them back home.” Sam points a thumb over his shoulder at Bucky. Sam turns around to give Bucky a piercing _go along with this_ look. 

“Yeah, it’s true,” Bucky says lamely. 

“He would just love it if he could take a look around,” Sam tacks on. Nancy wrinkles her nose, looking between the two of them looking supremely skeptical.

Sam claps Bucky on the shoulder and busts out his most genuine smile. “It would just make his day.”

Nancy’s shoulders sag. “Oh, alright. I guess it won’t hurt.” 

Sam turns his head to grin at Bucky. Bucky narrows his eyes and mouths a few words that totally look like cuss words, and then they’re being ushered inside the dimly lit room. Sam keeps his laughter to himself, and walks around the room to examine the shelves. It’s sort of awe-inspiring how many dolls there are, but it’s unsettling to feel all those little eyes looking at him. 

“Wow, is this a model of the hotel?” Bucky says. Sam turns around to see what Bucky is looking at. It is indeed a huge dollhouse that looks just like the hotel itself. The little girl they’d seen earlier walks into the room carrying two small dolls. Sam watches her put the dolls into rooms in the completely exposed backside of the dollhouse.

“Yes, my mother had this made for my daughter before she had a stroke. These dolls are all Nana’s, actually,” Nancy explains, her voice soft and wistful.

“Maggie and I play with them all the time!” The little girl chimes in. “I’m Tyler.”

Bucky bends down so that he’s eye level with the girl. “Nice to meet you, Tyler. Do you like playing with dolls?”

She smiles up at Bucky, and Sam wonders how he learned how to be so good with kids.

“Yeah! My favorite is the one that was made to look like Grandma! And there’s one that looks like her sister, too.” 

“That’s so fun. Can I see?” Bucky coaxes.

Sam thinks that is the opposite of fun. He definitely would not want a doll made to look like his grandma. Tyler grabs Bucky’s hand to point him to two of the dolls on the top shelf. 

“Okay, but don’t touch. Grandma would be mad,” Nancy chides Tyler, before she looks over at Sam. “Alright, boys. The movers are coming and we have some packing to do, if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely, we’ll get out of your hair,” Sam says. The doll room seemed to be kind of a waste of time anyway. Bucky waves at Tyler before they both leave the room. Nancy shuts the door behind them. 

“Okay, let’s split up. I’ll try to get info from the staff, and you can check the other rooms, talk to other guests?” Sam says, eager to get back to the hunt.

Bucky nods. “Sounds good.” 

Sam walks down the hallway first, and definitely does not waste his time wondering if Bucky is checking him out.

\---

It turns out that the bellhop pulls double duty as the bartender, so Sam befriends him over a glass of whiskey and gets a tour of the old photos hanging around the hotel. He finds out that the Grandmother with the doll collection lives on the third floor. Sam finds the guy to be creepy, and he talked a lot about not wanting the hotel to shut down. He’s Sam’s number one suspect, right up until an ambulance shows up to wheel a dead guy out of the hotel. Sam was with the bellhop the whole time, so it wasn’t him.

“Shit,” Sam mumbles under his breath. He excuses himself from the bar and heads out the front door to watch solemnly as the body bag is loaded into the back of an ambulance. He spots Nancy standing by the front door, and he acts casual as he walks over to talk to her.

She doesn’t know much, just that the guy was an appraiser sent by the realtor’s office. He was supposed to be doing the final hotel inspection, but he hanged himself from the ceiling fan in his room. He’d only checked in about an hour before he was found dead. 

She looks genuinely distraught, so Sam’s gut is telling him it’s not her fault. He tries to question the cops, but they just keep asking him about why he’s at the hotel and when he checked in. He’s got to hand it to them, he’d be suspicious too if the roles were reversed.

As soon as he can slip away, he dashes up the stairs to find Bucky. They’ve got a lot to catch up on. Hopefully Bucky’s day had been a little more productive. 

When Sam opens the door, he notices Bucky is seated in a chair at the foot of the beds. His back is to the door, so Sam can’t see his face.

“Hey man, did you see that a guy was found dead in his room? That’s _three_ suspicious deaths. This is definitely our sort of thing.” Sam walks over to the side-table in between the two beds to check out the welcome book. Maybe there is room service, and Sam is getting hungry.

Bucky snorts. “You’re kinda short.”

“What?” Sam whips around to stare at Bucky. That comment came out of nowhere. 

“And I mean, hell of a job we’re doing, right?” Bucky says, waving his metal arm around awkwardly as he talks.

Sam narrows his eyes, suddenly very conscious of the way Bucky is slumped down in the chair. Then he glances over at the mini-bar, and notices one of the clear glass bottles is only ¾ full. 

“Are you drunk?” Sam accuses, his tone stern. “You know we’re on a job.” 

Bucky looks up at Sam, his eyes looking wet from tears. “So? I can’t even do this one thing right. I can’t save anyone.” 

His words are starting to run together, and Sam rolls his eyes. Apparently Bucky is an emo drunk. 

“Okay, someone needs to sleep it off.” 

Sam leans down to gather Bucky into his arms and help him onto the bed. He grabs onto Sam’s arm, holding him close even as Sam dumps him onto the bed.

“I’m… I need to tell you something,” Bucky says, his eyes on Sam’s mouth. 

“You probably should just hold that thought,” Sam cautions. He’s very aware of the way Bucky is gripping his arm, and he’s also very aware of exactly how close their faces are. He can smell the whiskey on Bucky’s breath. He knows the right thing to do here is to walk away, but he feels frozen. His whole body is tense, waiting for Bucky to say something.

“No, it can’t wait. You have to promise me you’ll kill me, if it comes to that,” Bucky pleads. His voice sounds wrecked with worry, and Sam can feel his heart breaking a little. 

“Don’t ask that of me,” Sam says quickly. 

He moves his hand to fist it in Sam’s shirt, and Sam lets him. “You’re the only one that can do it. Well, maybe Natasha can. But Steve won’t, so I need you to promise me. If I’m out of control. Please.”

Sam swallows, and then Bucky moves his hands again to grip Sam’s face. Sam still feels paralyzed, maybe from the shock of the situation. And even though Sam had only just begun getting to know Bucky, it’s too late for Bucky to make such a request of him. Sam knows he would never be able to kill him.

So he lies.

“I promise.” 

Bucky breathes a heavy sigh, and then says, “Thank you.” He’s still looking at Sam’s mouth.

Sam breathes a sigh of relief, too. Maybe now Bucky will just - 

Bucky pulls Sam’s face to his and kisses him. Sam’s brain stalls for a moment. It’s the last thing Sam expected, and yet it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Bucky’s lips taste like whiskey, and Sam is reminded of the totally unbalanced situation they are in.

He puts a hand on Bucky’s chest and pushes him back. 

Bucky groans and settles into the bed, both his arms shoved under the pillow. 

Sam steps away from the bed, his mind reeling. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then gets up to leave the room. He has to walk, run, _something_.

Sam is going to have to forget exactly how Bucky’s mouth fits against his, and the warmth of his hands on his face, and that's not going to be an easy task. But Bucky's just a handsy drunk, probably. Sam's totally bogus promise is going to be a little tougher to explain away. Sam hopes that Bucky won't remember any of it when he wakes up.

\---

The next morning, Sam gets dressed for the day while Bucky stays curled around the toilet for a good 20 minutes.

“Been a while since you drank whiskey, eh Buck?” Sam teases. 

Bucky groans and mumbles something that definitely sounds like _fuck you_.

“I bet you don’t remember shit from last night, do you?” Sam keeps his voice light, but he is waiting for the answer with baited breath.

“Fuck you,” Bucky says again, more forcefully this time.

Sam laughs. “That’s what I thought. Now get up, we have a grandma to interrogate.” 

Bucky slams the bathroom door, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief. He still hasn’t quite come to terms with what last night meant, but now he didn’t have to. He could safely tuck away whatever he thought he felt and finish the mission.

\---

Bucky picks the lock on the grandmother’s room, but when they walk in, they discover she either can’t or won’t speak.

“Hoodoo is basically a series of spells. You have to speak to use them. She didn’t do it.” Bucky says. He sounds a lot better than he did when he’d first woken up.

“Okay, so where does that leave us?” Sam asks, frustrated.

They hear a piercing scream outside the grandmother’s window. Sam bolts out the door and down the stairs with Bucky on his heels.

When they burst out the front door, there’ s an old station wagon speeding off the gravel driveway and onto the lawn, right towards Nancy. There’s no one behind the wheel.

Sam sprints forward to grab Nancy and pull her out of the way, just before the fender of the car hits the poles of a swing-set set up on the lawn. The engine abruptly cuts off. 

Sam looks over at Bucky, the woman still trembling in his arms.

“Ghost?” Sam asks, already pretty confident he knows the answer.

“Ghost,” Bucky confirms.

They take Nancy inside, and sit her down in the dining room. Sam tries to explain how exactly a car tried to run her down of its own volition. Her hands are shaking as she takes the cup of tea Bucky offers her. 

“So you’re saying ghosts are real?” She says, incredulous. 

“Yes. We need to figure out who is haunting this place. Who else has died here?” Sam presses. 

“You mean, besides the last three people?” Nancy says bitterly. “This hotel is so old, I’m sure there are… Wait, I need to make sure Tyler is okay!” She says she slams the cup down on the table.

“What about your other daughter?” Bucky points out.

“I only have one daughter,” she looks between them, confused.

Sam feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. That doesn’t make sense based on what Tyler said in the doll room. “So who is Maggie?” 

“That’s just Tyler’s imaginary friend,” Nancy explains.

Sam shoots a meaningful look at Bucky. That’s got to mean that Maggie is their ghost.

Nancy jumps up and starts shouting for Tyler. They don’t hear an answer. Sam feels his heart rate kick up. Something is definitely wrong.

“Is there any other place she could be?” Bucky asks calmly. 

“There’s the playground out front, but we were just there. Oh, the pool!” 

She takes off running out the front door, Sam and Bucky on her heels. All Sam can think is, _please don’t let us be too late._

They round the front of the hotel. Off on the right hand side is a glass building. The woman races up to the front door and pounds on the glass. Sam peers in, and he can see Tyler standing on the balcony, looking down at the pool. She doesn’t turn around, even though all three of them are shouting at her.

“Stand back,” Bucky says. Sam catches his drift immediately, and gently tugs Nancy away from the door. Bucky brings his metal fist down against the glass hard, shattering the pane. The glass shards make clinking noises as they rain down on the cement. Bucky runs his metal hand over the bottom of the window frame to dislodge the remaining glass shards, and then he climbs through the window. He dashes toward the balcony just as Tyler jumps over the edge. Nancy screams in horror, but Bucky is already jumping off the balcony after her.

Sam turns to her. He’s got to trust Bucky to make the save. The best thing to do now is get poolside and help him. “How do we get down to the pool?” 

Tears are shining in her eyes but she meets Sam’s gaze and nods. “This way.”

She and Sam run around the building and burst through the side door. Sam can hear splashing in the pool. He sees Bucky above the water, cradling Tyler in his arms. She doesn’t look like she’s moving, and Sam’s heart sinks. Bucky is in the shallow end already, so Sam reaches out and helps Bucky place Tyler gently on her back on the tile. Nancy crouches down next to Tyler and grabs her wrist to feel for a pulse, and Sam is preparing to give CPR, but Tyler suddenly leans over and coughs up water.

“Oh, honey. Thank God!” Nancy exclaims. She wraps her arms around Tyler and hugs her close, and Sam feels the sweet euphoria of relief flooding his body.

“Tyler, do you see Maggie? Is she still here?” Sam asks. They don’t need any more surprises. Maggie looks around, and then shakes her head.

“I don’t see here anywhere,” she says quietly. 

Sam looks over at Bucky, still half submerged in water. His white t-shirt is clinging to the wide expanse of his chest, exposed by his unzipped jacket. He brushes his dripping wet hair out of his face, and he smiles as Tyler leans over to hug him.

She pulls back to stand up, her mom holding her close to her side. Bucky wades over to the pool stairs and climbs out. 

His jeans were already well-fitted, but now they’re soaking wet and clinging to _everything_. He pulls off his sopping wet jacket, and Sam is momentarily speechless. It’s insane how hot Bucky looks. 

Sam remembers the kiss in technicolor detail, and looks at Bucky’s well-defined abs, and he has to face the possibility that he’s quite possibly got a very inconvenient crush.

\---

By the time they get back to the hotel, Sam is prepared to evacuate the whole place and take on the ghost themselves. But it turns out that is completely unnecessary. Rose is already dead, and Sam doesn’t think that’s a coincidence.

“She was the one doing the hoodoo, wasn’t she? Before her stroke, she kept the ghost away?” Sam asks as he bumps Bucky’s shoulder. They’re both leaning against the car, keeping watch as Nancy and Tyler load up their station wagon.

Bucky looks over at Sam with his arms crossed. “Yeah, that’s the best explanation. But maybe we’ll never really know?”

“As long as it’s over,” Sam says, with feeling.

Bucky nods in agreement, and Sam avoids making eye contact. He sort of dreads the long drive back to the safe house. He absolutely cannot let anything about Bucky’s drunk night slip, even though he can’t stop thinking about it. He has to make sure he doesn't make it awkward between them, not after they've started building something like a friendship.

Nancy comes over and smiles at them both. “Thank you so much, for everything.” 

She pulls Bucky into a hug, and Sam raises his eyebrows at Bucky over her shoulder. 

“We’re just glad you’re both safe,” Bucky says sweetly. He’s absolutely charming when he wants to be.

“But we better be going,” Sam interjects. Nancy nods and walks back to the car with a smile, while Tyler waves at them both from the station wagon. 

Sam and Bucky get into the car and watch Nancy and Tyler drive away.

“It sure feels good to save the day,” Sam says as he starts the engine. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans before putting the car in drive. 

“You know, I remember your promise,” Bucky says, his voice casual.

Sam almost swallows his tongue. “What?”

“You _promised_ , Sam.” 

_Shit_. Sam glances over at Bucky, who is staring at Sam intently. It’s hard to read his expression, though.

“Do you remember… the other stuff that happened?” Sam turns his eyes back to the road so he doesn’t crash the car.

“The kiss? Yeah, that too.” Bucky doesn’t sound amused, but he doesn’t sound mad, either. “I didn’t mind it, actually. But maybe it wasn’t your best work?” Bucky continues. 

His voice sounds super serious, and Sam doesn’t know how to react. When he glances over, Bucky is grinning devilishly. Apparently he’s being teased about his kissing skills, when he hadn’t even been the one to do the kissing. Unbelievable. 

“Oh okay, well maybe if you’re not drunk off your ass next time, I can actually show you a few things,” Sam retorts.

“Next time, huh?” Bucky presses.

“You should be so lucky,” Sam shoots back easily. 

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, and Sam feels unreasonably happy. Maybe Bucky is purposefully trying to distract him from talking about the promise he made, but Sam is going to let him. They should enjoy this win while they can. 

And with the way Bucky is talking, it seems like Sam might actually have a shot at turning their flirty thing into an actual _thing_. Which is not something Sam had thought possible even 24 hours before. 

The hunter life is really starting to agree with Sam.


End file.
